


For Old, Lank Syme: a New Year's fanfic

by turtles_to_the_max



Category: 1984 - George Orwell
Genre: F/M, New Year's Eve, Syme is a smol bean who doesn't deserve this, crackfic, just gets more ooc the further you go, not technically canon compliant but it's fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:22:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22073968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtles_to_the_max/pseuds/turtles_to_the_max
Summary: (I wrote this in the hours before midnight on New Year's Eve to celebrate)For reasons unclear, the Party has declared that the workers at Minitrue are to have a New Year's party. Winston is surprised, but doesn't really care all that much.Until Julia gets drunk.And O'Brien teaches them a new song.And Winston has a little too much Victory Eggnog.And everything goes to hell.
Relationships: Winston Smith/Julia (1984)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	For Old, Lank Syme: a New Year's fanfic

**Author's Note:**

> hoo boy this is gonna be WEIRD and also bad quality buckle up children

"Comrades!" The speaker atop the podium cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his face projected from all angles by the telescreens around the canteen. "You may be wondering why you all have been gathered here today..."

"Today?" Julia muttered in Winston's ear. "More like late, late tonight - the damn telescreen went off in my ear just as I was getting some sleep. Eurasia better be giving out chocolate bunnies or something, or else..." The sleepy workers around her all nodded, grumbling.

"Hush," Winston whispered back, giving her hand a squeeze. "Listen."

The speaker cleared his throat again. "Normally, the passing of the years is observed without much... ah... circumstance..."

A few flakes of some papery material fell into Winston's hair. He reached up a hand to brush them out and found them to be colourful, crinkling and shining in the bright light.

"...but due to... ah... unforseen factors and... ah... special requests made..." The speaker fidgeted some more, looking deeply uncomfortable."We at Minitrue have gathered you here..." he took a deep breath and plunged on, "... for a celebration."

There was a stunned silence as more coloured paper fell from the ceiling and landed in Winston's hair.

"A what?" Julia hissed.

Winston just shrugged. By now he wasn't even questioning whatever the Party did.

"But... did he say... a _celebration_...?" Julia gasped. "Winston - "

And slowly, a roar spread through the room as the workers realized the same thing. As more paper fell, several started to dance, and there were shouts of "All hail BB!" and "Yeehaw!" Winston turned to Julia and saw that she was smiling.

"What do you suppose this paper stuff is?" she said, brushing some from her hair. "Some new invention of theirs, I suppose, war propaganda and all that rot."

Winston grabbed a handful - it was falling in droves now - and examined it closer. It triggered a faint memory of his, of men laughing and the swish of skirts, but the feeling quickly faded again. "I don't know," he said. "Whatever it is, I wonder how they get the colour..."

"Smith!" yelled a good-natured voice behind him. "I say - Smith!"

"Hello, Parsons," Winston said without turning around.

" _Wonderful_ surprise, don't you say?" gabbled the voice, accompanied by its usual smell of sweat. "I do say, it is good of them to give us a moral boost now and then... really goes to show... you know..."

Winston nodded mutely as Parsons chattered on; he had bigger issues on his mind. Julia had disappeared into the crowd, and he scanned the surroundings for her, catching sight of several large barrels near the edge of the room as he did. Upon further inspection, they looked to have some sort of tap protruding out of their flat sides, which were labeled with _Victory Eggnog_.

"Eggnog," Winston muttered to himself. On a whim he strode off in their direction, not caring where exactly he was going -

"Smith?"

"Syme?"

"Thank BB," Syme sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "I was beginning to think I was the only sane person left in the room." He put a hand to his temple.

"Are you alright?" Winston said. Closer up, Syme didn't look well at all; his face was pale and tired, his eyelids drooping and uniform rumpled.

Syme sighed again. "I've been feeling... strange... this whole evening. Some odd feeling, like a premonition, or - well, it doesn't mean anything, I suppose." He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I should go..." A twist of his shoulder and he had disappeared back into the mass of people, leaving Winston staring after him.

"There you are!" Julia appeared behind him and seized him by the arm. "I have someone to show you! Come - " She started running, dragging Winston behind her.

"Be careful - "

"Oh, no one notices anyways," Julia said with a bit of a giggle, and Winston caught a trace of alcohol on her breath. "You should meet him! Come, hurry - "

She dashed around a group of Party members - nearly dislocating Winston's arm in the process - leapt over a chair - Winston was forced to follow - and skidded to a halt in front of the large barrels. "Annnnd... here he is!"

There was a second of intense, incredibly awkward silence as the two men regarded each other.

"So," O'Brien said slowly, "nice meeting you here, Comrade."

O'Brien was looking at him intently. Winston tried very hard to keep his breathing steady, praying O'Brien had forgotten.

He nodded mutely, trying and failing to smile. The words _Two Minutes Hate_ drifted through his brain and towards his lips; he barely restrained them and looked back at O'Brien. 

The silence continued. Julia glanced back and forth between the two of them, looking confused.

"Oh, don't be so uptight, you two," she said with a sigh. "Eggnog, anyone?" She held up a glass of some creamy, pale mixture Winston had never seen before.

"What is that?" Winston said, forgetting O'Brien in the new curiosity.

"Eggnog," O'Brien repeated with a faint smile, handing Winston a cup. Winston relaxed; evidently, O'Brien wasn't going to bring it up now. "It's a drink they made before the Revolution - eggs and alcohol and I believe you've heard of cream - "

"Hang on," Julia interrupted. "How do you know so much about it yourself? Unless you ordered it - "

O'Brien smiled and raised his eyebrows, looking at Julia over the top of his glass.

"Why - you - you did order it! I suppose the speaker did say - why, you little - "

Winston gave in and took a sip, listening to Julia's sputtering in the background. The drink was sweet and creamy, with just a hint of bitterness that he presumed was the alcohol, and it triggered the same distant childhood memory from earlier.

"Ah. There we go," Julia said, noticing. "Now, does this party have any good music, or are we going to have to use that rubbish from the telescreen?"

"Don't call it rubbish in front of - " Winston hissed, but O'Brien merely chuckled.

"Well," O'Brien said slowly, "there was a song - or a poem, I don't know - that was once sung around this time... if I can recall... ah yes...

_Should old acquaintance be forgot_

_And never brought to mind?_

_Should old acquaintance be forgot_

_And the days of auld lang syne._

_For auld lang syne, my dear -_ "

"Old, lank Syme?" Julia interrupted. She turned to Winston. "Your friend is called Syme, isn't he? Is the song about him?" She swayed, almost falling into Winston, and again Winston smelled the whiff of alcohol on her breath.

" _Auld lang syne_ ," Winston corrected; the words had stirred some memory within him. He took another sip of his drink.

"Old, lank Syme," Julia insisted. Winston rolled his eyes, draining the last of his eggnog and pouring himself another glass.

"Hey!" 

"Hm?" Winston looked towards where Julia was pointing.

"Your friend! He's over there! Oi! You! Yes, you!" Julia ran into the crowd and emerged dragging Syme after her. "My friend found a song about you!"

"He - I, er, comrade -"

Julia pointed to O'Brien. "Yeah! That guy! Song!"

"Comrade O'Brien, what - "

O'Brien raised his eyebrows. "Happy New Year, I suppose."

Winston shook his head and drained his glass again, starting to feel the effect of the alcohol. Whatever happened next, he didn't want to remember it in the morning.

Julia clapped Syme on the back and jumped on a table. "Alright, everyone!"

"Comrade Julia -" 

It was too late. She already had the crowd's attention, several of whom were already drunk themselves. "Now, if you'll join me in a brief song!"

"Smith," Syme muttered under his breath. "What is going on -"

O'Brien pressed a button on the telescreen; words appeared along with blaring music and more of the coloured paper, and the crowd began to sing.

"SHOULD OLD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT - "

Winston shrugged and drank a third glass of eggnog.

"AND NEVER BROUGHT TO MIND - "

"Smith. Please. Get me out of here." Syme's breathing came fast and shallow. "Whatever happens, I don't want - "

"SHOULD OLD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT - "

The cheering crowd grabbed Syme and lifted him onto the table, where a new storm of confetti doused him. Somewhere, a spotlight turned on.

"AND THE DAYS OF OLD, LANK SYME!"

" _What?_ "

The spotlight focused on Syme, who was crouching, face buried in his hands. The music swelled as the crowd cheered, singing even louder.

It _was_ a catchy tune, Winston thought, sipping his eggnog.

"FOR OLD, LANK SYME, MY DEARS - "

"Please," Syme murmured, "no..."

Julia leapt onto the table beside him. "I want spotlight, too!"

The crowd laughed and cheered some more.

"FOR OLD, LANK SYME!"

What the hell, Winston thought, and clambered - on his second try - up onto Syme's other side. Together he and Julia dragged Syme to his feet, Winston still clutching his fifth glass of eggnog. Sixth? It didn't matter.

"WE'LL TAKE A CUP OF KINDNESS YET..."

The music paused.

The crowd held its breath.

Confetti - Winston had just remembered the word - poured like rain. 

Julia dumped the contents of her glass onto Syme's head.

"FOR OLD - "

"YEAH!"

"LANK - "

"Please no - "

"SYYYME!" the crowd bellowed. People whooped and yelled, dancing and shouting as the clock struck midnight.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Winston yelled.

"I LOVE YOU, WINSTON!' Julia screamed back.

They kissed, and the crowd roared its approval. Winston brushed confetti out of Julia's dark hair; she seized the front of his overalls and pulled him closer -

"And Syme!" Julia bellowed suddenly, pushing Winston away. "We all love you, Syme! Everyone give it up for our dear friend: Old, Lank Syme!"

The crowd applauded. 

"I had a feeling about this," Syme muttered. He stood up, brushed the paper off of his shoulders and strode out grumbling to himself.

The crowd booed.

Julia shrugged. "His loss."

The crowd cheered.

Winston upended the tank of Victory Eggnog over the crowd; it burst, spilling its contents everywhere.

The crowd yelled.

The lights turned low and the mob went wild, dancing and screaming and slipping in the eggnog. Julia laughed, joining in their midst, dragging Winston after her. Music struck up, and the dark room was filled with hundreds of drunk people laughing and cheering, unrestrained for the first time in their lives.

O'Brien just smiled and raised his glass. "Happy New Year, Oceania."


End file.
